


Withered [Tyki Mikk]

by abvore, selvatic



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: F/M, General fiction, Literature, Poetry, Sexual Content, Two Shot, Victorian Attitudes, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:28:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abvore/pseuds/abvore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selvatic/pseuds/selvatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Two part collaboration with @Selvatic</p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer:<br/>Tyki Mikk and D.Gray-Man © Katsura Hoshino / Shueisha / TMS Entertainment</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Withered [1/2]

**Author's Note:**

> Two part collaboration with @Selvatic
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> Tyki Mikk and D.Gray-Man © Katsura Hoshino / Shueisha / TMS Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the mysterious and charming Lord Mikk

_ Maybe being traded for prestige by the family isn’t such a bad thing _ , you think as you stroll into the Card Room of the city’s Assembly Rooms with the high class friends you managed to make within a week of your debut to society. For a daughter of landed gentry, it is quite a feat. All you care about is that it a reprieve from the tedium of hearing your parents discuss your future like you were a chess piece in their bid to rise through the ranks of nobility and from the fear of becoming just like them – calculating and acquisitive – one day.

    You look over the room, careful not to cross eyes with any of the several gentlemen crowded round tables who had looked up from their games to study the newcomers. You cover your face with a hand fan to appear appropriately demure; lessons your governess had drilled into you as an unruly child in the countryside. The friend who had dragged you into the room has no such restraint, she just stretches a bird-thin neck and blatantly peers around the room.

    “Ah!” She exclaims loudly before dragging you towards a mostly empty table on the far right. On reaching, she taps her brother on the shoulder with her fan; making you smile at her boundless energy. 

    “Brother, this is my dearest friend, _____.”

    “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss _____.” 

You murmur an appropriate response before he continues,

    “Allow me to introduce my companions, Lord Hegel and Lord Mikk.”

You risk a glance at the duo and feel your breath stall at the sight of Lord Mikk. Slicked dark hair barely visible under a bowler hat and gleaming studs in his ears; he grins at you. 

    “A pleasure to meet you, Miss _____,” he greets with a knowing smirk that sends a rush of pleasure through your being. Nodding enthusiastically, you forget all decorum and gazing at him unabashedly. His dark tail coat open; you can see his black double-breasted vest that ends in a low waist. Every so often, he would catch your eyes on him and wink at you then steer the conversation towards a banter between you. You answer each of his witticisms with some of your own. You know his types; devilishly handsome rakes your mother had warned you about before you attended your debut. 

    Your friend is chatting about hats and you are barely listening when his hot gaze falls on you. Mouth dry, you lick your lips in a provocative move; trying to get a rise out of him while still looking at your friend whose words you can no longer hear. It’s like you aren’t in a roomful of people. And so the day passes in subtle flirtations with the gentleman. On you way out, he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to it. 

    “Please, call me Tykki, fair miss. Till we meet at the Hegel family’s ball tonight,” he croons before leaving you scandalized and flustered on the steps waiting of your friend’s family coach to convey you home in time to get ready for the evening. 

To be Continued 


	2. Withered [2/2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Conclusion by @Selvatic

_It was late at night that Tyki stole away from the ball with [Name]. She focused on the abandoned mansion towering sinister and yet somehow irresistible over her. It was deliciously inappropriate and terribly exciting._  
  
  
  
Her back crashed against the wall, jagged edges of worn out bricks digging into her skin, as his teeth grazed the little sensitive spots down her neck.  
  
A small gasp escaped her lips as he tore apart the shoulder of her dress and his teeth sunk into her, almost drawing blood. Images of dark creatures seducing their victims with sweet words and even sweeter lips lurked in the depths of her heart, but she pushed them away.  
  
She didn’t want to _see_. She only wanted to _feel_ , to drown in his passion, and let him quench her thirst for something that even she herself couldn’t quite describe. He seemed like a being that did not belong in this world; a being that could offer the highest gift of pleasure and he was giving it to _her._  
  
She let her head fall back against the rough wall as his fingers traced the exposed skin of her cleavage, his lips planting a trail of fiery kisses down her chest. Goosebumps erupted on her skin and her breath hitched. She had never felt like this before.  
  
She wanted him to teach her about _pleasure_ and show her the dark world of sinful wishes and decaying lust where he dwelled; she wanted him to pull her with him into depravity.  
  


  
_The art of pleasing means being pleased_.  


  
That’s what he had told her. And so she wanted to try it; try everything he had to offer. Her eyes fluttered closed and she surrendered to him completely. Her whole being focused only on the waves of unfamiliar emotions that he forced on her with expert fingers and knowing lips.

His hands sneaked under layers of petticoats and found her legs, soft and untouched by anyone before. He traced her skin, softly, carefully, as if he were afraid she might break. Yet, even the lightest of caresses sent chills of pleasure down her spine.

She yearned for him to give her more; to _take more_. To take everything she had to give and fulfill that unspoken promise of divine pleasure in return.

She opened her eyes to bathe into the beautiful view of him pleasing her; she wanted to burn the moment into her memories and lock it forever in her heart. She wanted to live the rest of her life for this moment and make it last for all eternity.

He fisted the petticoats and the thin material gave way with a loud rip. She gasped in surprise but his lips silenced all noises coming from her mouth. She melted into his kiss, completely unable to handle the sensations.

He broke away and she could only mewl in disappointment before he covered her eyes with the torn material of her petticoats.

“Feel. That’s all you have to do now”, he whispered in her ear as his hands pushed the textile of her dress down her chest, cupping the soft mounds. His lips wrapped around a small bud and he sucked, while massaging her breasts. She moaned into the darkness and her nails grazed the wall behind her in frustration.

The area between her legs throbbed in anticipation for something that she had never experienced before. Something that only _he_ could give her.

Her fingers dug into soft tresses, venting her frustration in her pathetic attempt to punish him for not moving fast enough. His tongue teased the soft skin of her chest and she couldn’t help but beg him to relieve her from the unbearable tension.

“Give me… more”, she managed between pants. Her eyelids fluttered momentarily open and a pair of golden irises, cold as steel, yet full of passion stared back at her. She thought that he seemed somehow different; wilder, more savage. He wasn’t the noble man that oozed charm and elegance. He was desire personified.

He was the reason she was losing herself.

“Let me break you”, he whispered against pure skin. Lost in the sensation, she didn't realise that she was devoid of clothes. He had rid her from anything that separated her from him; he had rid her of her dignity. And still she wanted to beg him to _take more._

“Do whatever you want to me”, she moaned. “Just keep making me feel like this”. Her words tasted strange on her lips, desperate, sad, hopeless, salty; they tasted like tears. _Her_ tears. Her heart played a confused concert in her chest, and no amount of deep breaths could calm her down.

A single touch and she was gone.

A single kiss and she was his.

A trail of the lightest butterfly kisses tracked down her belly to the most private of places. The only part of her that she wasn’t allowed to show to anyone but her future husband lay bare before his eyes. She was his to please, to use, to abuse. He could simply do anything he pleased with her and she would offer no resistance, no matter how embarrassing, painful, or humiliating it was.

Still he touched her carefully, building up the fire inside of her. His fingertips brushed over her wetness, golden irises burning into her core, as he positioned himself between her legs. Every tiny cell of her body screamed to resist his touch, to pull away, but she couldn’t. She had completely surrendered to his desires. She craved to experience _everything._

He placed a feathery kiss on her wetness and as soon as his tongue came in contact with her skin, a sob escaped her throat. She couldn’t understand why she was crying; but he definitely enjoyed it. He lapped at her core in sync with her fragmented breathing; she couldn’t stop. He wanted it like this and she would give it to him like this.

He tasted every inch of her; he bathed her in divine pleasure that no creature had ever felt before. She reached the highest levels of carnal satisfaction, and yet she could only ask for more.

She could only think that he _had_ to make her his, no matter the consequences.

And he did. He wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed his length against her entrance.

She knew it would hurt but she didn’t care. He didn’t offer a single word of consolation. He just buried his teeth in the soft skin of her shoulder until he drew blood. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back her screams; tears welled in the corners of her eyes and only then did she notice the numbness between her legs.

Hot liquid ran down her thighs. She didn’t know what it was, but frankly she didn’t care. All she wanted was him; no matter the pain, no matter the fear.

He pumped her relentlessly and slowly she realised that she wasn’t in heaven anymore. It hurt. _She_ hurt. She could see that he had given her a piece of the sky that she couldn’t hold on to. He was going to take it back, along with everything that was _her_.

In a few moments he would leave her empty. A shell devoid of any substance, lying on her knees by the jagged wall, tears running on skin made of porcelain.

A doll with no past, present, or future. A doll that will forever wait for something that will never come.

Ruined.

 

  
_There from thy daughter, sister, wife,_  
At midnight drain the stream of life;  
Yet loathe the banquet which perforce  
Must feed thy livid living corpse:  
Thy victims ere they yet expire  
Shall know thy demon for their sire,  
As cursing thee, thou cursing them,  
Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

 

His voice echoed distant as his figure faded from her sight.


End file.
